Mine, Forever
by chromeknickers
Summary: A series of one-shots dealing with the complicated and often angry relationship of Draco and Ginny. Each story compliments the other in a non-linear fashion; instead of a chronological order, it jumps forwards and backwards in time, showing Draco and Ginevra of the past, present, and future.
1. A Chance Encounter

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything. 'Nuff said._

**Mine, Forever**

**A Chance Encounter**

Ginevra wandered aimlessly down the market aisles, humming an unnameable tune to herself. She had been in Muggle grocery stores before, but she still found herself engrossed by all the odd products that they had displayed on the shelves. She spent more time reading than shopping, which meant that she rarely spent less than an hour at the grocers.

She and Harry had been living at Grimmauld Place for about a year now, right after she finished school. Her parents allowed that she could live with Harry as long as they married within a reasonable time. She and Harry agreed, and soon thereafter she moved in with him. Harry, who was still used to the Muggle way of life, liked to do Muggle activities, so she decided to meet him half way and participate more in his former way of life, including shopping for groceries.

She slowly pushed her cart over to the fruit section and glanced at the assorted delectables, grabbing a few small bags to store her chosen fruit in.

"I recall when we used to commit some fairly naughty acts with strawberries," a charmingly silky voice drawled in her ear.

Ginevra jumped and turned around to come face-to-face with the blond-haired, grey-eyed devil himself in a white Oxford button-up shirt, grey trousers, and polished black docs. He looked as handsome and as dashing as ever, sporting his ever-present and patented Malfoy smirk.

He stood regally above her, cocking a pale blond eyebrow whimsically in the air. He looked both amused and playful: two expressions he rarely showed in public. It had been two years since she had last seen him, back at Hogwarts. He hadn't changed much since then, except to have, perhaps, become even more gorgeous and alluring. She frowned, hating the fact that he was the kind of man who became even better looking with age.

"Not going to bag some of these sinfully sweet strawberries, Weasley?" he asked cheekily as he picked up a plump berry between his manicured fingers and offered her a bite.

She shook her head, shivering, and stepped back, moving quickly down the aisle. She had no idea why Draco Malfoy was in a Muggle grocery market in downtown London. She was determined to ignore his presence. She couldn't let him get underneath her skin – not again.

"Perhaps I prefer more exotic fruit nowadays," she replied rather unconvincingly, letting the words inadvertently slip out.

It was their game that they played, in the past, to never let a barb go unslung. She felt the old memories come swimming back to haunt her, flooding her senses like diving face-first into a Pensieve bowl. So instead of reminiscing, she chose to pretend that she was browsing the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the familiar feel of his hands close to her face.

"What, like this plantain here?" he asked as he stealthily reached out to touch her hand, pointing with it to the exceptionally petite banana. "I suspect that's all that someone like Potter has to offer you." He smirked and leaned in close, bringing his cool lips to her ear. "Have you ever thought of going back to the tried, tested, and stamped with the seal of approval brand?" He waggled his eyebrow at her in jest.

Ginevra could feel the soft hairs of his eyebrows brush against her cheek. She stiffened and tried to draw her hand away from his, but he sensed her unease, and so he stepped behind her even closer, hindering any chance for her escape.

"C'mon, Weasley," he purred seductively in her ear. "You remember this."

He took her hand and slid it along the length of the elongated banana, rubbing his thumb along hers as he breathed hotly in her ear behind her.

"I remember," she replied throatily, unconsciously leaning her head back against his shoulder as she felt his weight behind her, his member swelling and pressing into the small of her back. It was a delectably nostalgic feeling. "But when you're only offered the fruit and not the seed to plant it, there's not much more that you can do with it but eat it and move on." She offered him a cold look and shrugged his hand off hers.

She made her way down to the next aisle, and he followed her, relentlessly, not caring who saw them; however, they did seem to zig and zag out of the aisles unnoticed, undetected. He finally reached her and grabbed her wrist to spin her around, pinning her against the shelf of the cereal aisle with his right knee between the apex of her thighs.

"Oh, I was willing to plant _seeds_," he hissed against her neck, the tip of his tongue, moist and warm, darted along her sensitive flesh, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips as her body grew warm, taunt, and aching.

"It's over, Draco!" she said, reluctantly pushing him off her as she looked about the store, flushed and red in the face.

He glared down at her with his chest rising and falling, his face also flushed. He looked ready to devour her right in the very aisle of the Muggle store.

"It will _never_ be over, Ginevra!" he warned her as his steel grey eyes pierced her soft amber ones. "I never give up what is _mine_!" As he said this, he lunged forward and brought his fingers to her delicate throat, cutting off the air to her lungs.

She froze, unable to react. He was choking her, in public, in the middle of a store. People were walking by them, unperturbed. He must have placed some sort of invisibility spell on them to make them undetectable. She couldn't cry out for help even if she could, even if she wanted to. Why was he doing this to her?

"You remember all those hot nights when you pretended to be a rebel, when you pretended to be both brave and scared, surrounded by Death Eaters?" he asked rhetorically, loosening his grip on her throat so that she could breathe. "Those nights whenyou came into _my_ room, _begging_ for a release, screaming out my name, tearing marks into my flesh!"

He brought his face down so close to hers that she could smell his almond-spiced cologne, and she was rocketed back to those sweat-filled nights, digging her nails into his shoulders as he brought her soaring to the peak of her bliss and then tightly and desperately clinging onto him as she came crashing back down to earth. Then he filled her deeply, over and over again until they passed out, breathless and exhausted yet never sated.

"Remember when all you wanted – every night – was a lasting fuck to take you into the next day?" His stormy eyes narrowed on hers. "Remember when I gave that to you? _Every_ night!"

He brought his lips down to hers and devoured her mouth, darting his tongue past her lips as he brought his free hand down to rip open her blouse. He was trying to consume her, to dominate her with every deliberate act he made.

She gasped for air that was finally allowed to re-enter her lungs, and she threw herself at him, entwining her fingers into his long, silky blond hair, pulling his face towards hers so that she could nip at his tender lips with her teeth, drawing small droplets of blood. Merlin, how she wanted this man, how she craved and breathed him, how she _missed_ him.

He brought his hands down to her chest and worked his fingers on her nipples, kneading the tender pink flesh, drawing out sighs, moans, and screams from his little red-haired vixen.

"You are_ mine_!" he growled against her collarbone and let his lips and tongue roam down to her breast, biting down tenderly on the duct, taking a small, pink nub into his mouth, sucking gently and then suddenly releasing, causing her to squirm with need and want against him.

She struggled to wrap herself around him, but he stood up and pushed her back against the shelf, holding her by the throat again, however, gently and tenderly this time. She looked completely and utterly wild. Her hair was loose and tossed about her shoulders and down the front of her chest. Her shirt was torn and hanging open as her bra only half-covered her exposed nipples. She was breathing heavily with her lips parted; her pink-coloured lipgloss was smeared all over her lips and the side of her cheeks. Her eyes had a frenzied gleam in them as she searched his face. If one didn't know any better, one would say that Ginevra Weasley looked thoroughly fucked.

"You are mine forever, Ginevra," he said huskily as he stepped closer towards her. "You are a part of me just as I put a part of myself _inside_ you." He brought his swollen lips down to hers. "I will never go away." He bent down and kissed her lips both tenderly and possessively. "And you will _never _ask me to."

~*~

**To be continued …**

~*~

**Author notes**: This fic was originally inspired by Roma's (Cadaverous Apples) prompt for the Writing Challenge on the D/G Forum. Below is the following prompt this piece is based off of.

**Prompt/Challenge**: Draco/Ginny, of course, and must include a misused piece of fruit or vegetable. Will most likely be humorous, but I'd like to see how someone could make such a prompt believably angsty.

**Mine, Forever** is my modest attempt at a smut series with a D/s elements to it. Each "chapter" is a different snap-shot in time, usually from one particular point of view (i.e. Ginny one chapter and Draco the next). It follows a non-linear format, not chronological. While you may get annoyed with how it jumps back and forth, Momento-style, it will, eventually, tell the tale of how Ginevra and Draco discovered each other and whether or not they remain together.


	2. Sweat Filled Nights

**Mine, Forever**

**Sweat-Filled Nights**

"No one saw me!" she hissed as she stepped passed him, bringing her hood back, allowing her thick auburn waves to tumble down and spill out onto her shoulders.

"You better pray that's true, Weasley!" he growled back at her as he grabbed her by her copper locks and dragged her fully into the room, into his hungry embrace.

She grunted as she lurched forward, reaching up for his hand entwined in her hair. He did not pull harshly, but he wasn't gentle either. She lifted her other hand and slapped him soundly across the face. It was a loud and abrupt sound – all clap, no sting. It was startling though, and it served its purpose.

"So that's how we're playing it tonight?" Draco asked menacingly low as he tightened his grip on her hair. His dark eyes narrowed into mercury slits.

He shoved her back against the dresser, causing her to knock off and spill countless precious trinkets onto the floor, crashing and shattering into a thousand nondescript pieces.

He would never strike her back. He was raised proper enough, but this was no ordinary woman. And while he would never raise a hand to hit Ginevra, he would break her in much more entertaining ways. She never objected; in fact, she preferred the rough and tumble.

She glared up at him with wild eyes, her lips parted as her tongue furtively darted out to lick at her full bottom lip. Her cherry blossom mouth. How often he had abused it, assaulted it with his lips, with his fingers, with his aching need. How often she complied, forced him inside her to help him achieve his release. She was his nimble nymph, always ready to please and be pleased.

"If you want force tonight, Ginevra, you're going to have to _give_ me something," he said hotly with a smirk playing on his irresistibly gorgeous face.

Of course he would have given her anything she wanted. He enjoyed these games as much as she did. He knew, however, that she preferred giving just as much as receiving.

"And what's that going to be, Malfoy?" she asked huskily.

She rarely called him by his first name. He believed that it was because by her only referring to his last name in bitter tones added to the forbidden element of their relationship.

No one knew that she came to his room every night, seeking out the most sensational fuck of both their lives. They had kept their affair a secret since it started at the beginning of the school semester. He had been surprised, somewhat, to find her at Hogwarts as the school had ultimately become overrun by Death Eaters. He shouldn't have been. She was an overly stupid and foolish Gryffindor (or brave as they liked to term themselves), so why would she not be in the thick of it all? He soon realised that she craved the danger and the darkness. She was an insatiable temptress who sized him up on day one and relentlessly pursued him – secretly, of course.

Draco grinned malevolently and put his deft fingers to his belt and began to unbuckle it, silently sliding the leather strap out and then folding it in two to bring it together with a snap. He could see in her eyes and in her body language that she was becoming wet with arousal. He knew from first-hand experience that she loved loud noises and stinging spankings.

"You, my little cunny," he said almost sweetly to her as he held the belt in one hand while his other made work of the zipper on his trousers "are going to come over here." He pointed at the ground directly in front of him as he released his turgid member to the top of his silver, silk boxers. It hummed against his navel, aching to be touched by her. "You are going to get down on your knees and open that pretty little mouth of yours and devour every inch of this."

He gripped the shaft and squeezed gently as she immediately fell to her knees and put her hands on either side of his erection, bracing herself against his upper thighs. She was always so willing, so eager. He loved this about her. He adored her obedience and seemingly obstinate submissiveness. She only pretended to resist. She was such a tease.

She did not tease him this time, like she normally did. She must have been positively dripping between her thighs because she did not even hesitate as she took his throbbing member all the way down her throat and swallowed hard.

He gasped loudly, almost yelping in pleasure, and had to hold onto her shoulders to steady himself. He could feel her grinning against his cock. He grabbed the back of her head and thrust himself in deeper, eliciting a slight gagging noise from her below. Now it was his turn to smirk. Although he often let her have control in times like these, he wasn't about to let her have the last grin. He had proven to shock her just as much as she stunned him.

How they came to be in this relationship, he really couldn't even begin to rationally explain, nor did he ever care to question it. She had pursued him, and he, at first, thought it was to exact some type of revenge on him for attempting to kill Dumbledore and letting Death Eaters into the school the previous year. She did try, almost every day, to hex him into oblivion even though this had only resulted in her receiving numerous detentions.

He had not told on her once. He didn't care that he angered her and caused her to lash out at him, yet he also chose not to seek revenge. He wasn't quite sure why. He assumed that it was because he felt rather deflated since his failed attempt to kill the former headmaster. Whatever the case might be or have been, he never openly sparred with the Weasley girl. That was until one day when he was forced to do nothing but.

The slurping and moaning sounds she was making below greatly distracted him from his ruminations. He felt himself soon about to climax. He briefly considered holding off, but then thought the better of it – she could always make him hard again in a fraction of a second. This way he could have the best of both worlds: marking her face _and_ inside her.

He quickly pulled his engorged cock out of her mouth as he felt the fluids begin to accumulate and the pressure build up inside him. He barely made it past her lips when his shot his load, erupting a volcanic jet of liquid all over her face as she held out her tongue, catching every last drop. Merlin, she was gorgeous in this position.

She licked at her fingers hungrily, and he could not help but smile, leaning down to capture her lips in his. He tasted himself on her mouth and tongue.

"My beautiful Ginevra," he sighed against her cheek, feeling the fight and energy drain out of him.

"Oh, no you don't, Malfoy!" she growled and pushed him onto his back. "None of this sighing and fluttering crap until I get what I want, what is mine!"

She threw off her robes to reveal the splendour of her beautiful nakedness. She was completely nude – something she liked to do when she came to visit him so late at night. Often she would meet with him twice in one night because she was still aching with need from their last encounter, playing with herself until she could no longer take it and was forced to come seek a release from him once more. He would have offered her to spend the night if she had only asked but once; however, she never asked, so he never volunteered to share his bed.

She gracefully and nimbly straddled his torso, lowering her tiny, tight cunny onto his once against tumescent member. Normally if he wanted to enter her and had performed no foreplay (as they often just skipped straight to the fucking), he would have to use his wand on her to apply lubricant to her tender labia, but from what he could feel now was that she was so wet for him that he wouldn't need to. For once, he would be able to slide easily into her. There was some resistance, at first, but not as much as usual. She was still wrapped snugly around him, fitting him perfectly, like a glove.

"Ginevra," he moaned out her name.

Earlier in their courtship, he had tried desperately to never moan or say her first name, but she had a way about her, a way of making him do and say things he never dreamed possible.

"Call me '_Weasley_', Malfoy!" she hissed as she closed her eyes, riding up and down his shaft like a champion bull rider.

She often took control like this when she wanted him to dominant her. It was her subtle yet enticing way of emasculating him. If this was her way of subjecting him. Topping from the bottom.

_Well subject away_, he thought to himself, lying blissfully on his back. However, tonight, he knew that she needed _his_ dominance.

He launched himself upwards, catching her by the waist and by surprise. He sat up fully with her still on his lap, his cock buried deep inside her. His right hand reached out to lightly grip her throat. Obviously, he knew that she was goading him. This is what she wanted: the rough and tumble. He would never dream of disappointing his kinky, red-haired succubus.

"You will call me 'Draco' or 'Master' in the privacy of my room," he stated dangerously low, digging his fingers into her neck, causing her to lean back with her eyes wild and bulging. "Do you understand me, Ginevra?"

He had asked her slowly and evenly. Whiffs of his white-blond hair had fallen onto his forehead that was laced with tiny beads of sweat, making him look both dangerous and smouldering.

She nodded her head and closed her eyes. She appeared as though she was about to pass out. He could feel her body quivering beneath him, her muscles tightening around his shaft. It was becoming almost painfully tight. He knew that she would be arriving soon.

"I said, do you _understand_ me, Ginevra?" he repeated again, harsh and demanding, and she opened her eyes.

He could feel her wetness start to trickle downward, and he waited for her to say the words so that he could send her over the edge.

"Yes, _Draco_," she breathed, and he threw her down onto her back and brought her knees up to her shoulders.

He plunged in deep. He was only able to get in a few quick, deep thrusts before he felt her walls close around him and the dam inside her break, gushing her release onto him, marking him with her sweet-tasting fluids.

"That's my girl," he cooed, comforting her in soothingly tones as he thrust inside a few more times, releasing his seed inside her, filling up his beautiful Gryffindor.

She sighed deeply and dragged him down beside her, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. There they would lie for the next twenty minutes or maybe an hour, listening to each other breathe, feeling each other's warmth. Then she would get up, put on her robes, and exit his room as though nothing had ever happened.

He supposed that she convinced herself that all she desired was the sweat-filled nights he gave her. Merlin knows he tried to convince himself of the same notion. But neither could lie to themselves for she would always come back to him – every night – taking a piece of him and giving a piece of herself back.

**To be continued … **


	3. A Flight to Remember

**Mine, Forever**

**A Flight to Remember**

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, noting ever deliberate action he made with his hands, every calculated step he took. His movements were fluid and natural, almost artistic, like a dancer's. Behind the beautiful and haughty exterior, however, was a boy, a vulnerable boy. She knew this; she sensed it.

She suffered no great delusions about him. She knew he was a conceited, arrogant, and bigoted bastard. She knew that he was flawed and prejudiced in every way imaginable. She knew that he was an insufferable prat, who would never change. She didn't want him to. Besides, he was just a boy. She couldn't change him, but she could certainly mould him to her liking if she was so inclined – and she was.

She tried to convince herself for a year now that she was simply going through her bad-boy phase. The grey-eyed, blond-haired Slytherin prince was just a crush, a need for something that was unhealthy for her, like hot gravy on chips or melted fudge on ice cream. It was just a passing craving. A year later and she still had the same appetite. Even after everything that ponce had done in her fifth year – poisoning her brother, almost killing Katie Bell, masterminding a plot to bring Death Eaters into the school, and attempting to kill Dumbledore – she found she wanted him all the more.

She drew her hood up to hide her vibrant copper waves and followed him as he made his way towards the Quidditch pitch. It was lightly misting outside, and the grey, damp weather made everyone miserable, determined to keep them all indoors, save two people: Draco Malfoy and Ginevra Weasley.

She noted that he often went outside when it was raining or windy or any other type of horrible or dreary weather. He kept to himself, more so than usual. He was rarely seen with his usual crew. Occasionally, she would see him chatting absently with either Zabini or Nott. But this year, he appeared to even more reserved and distant.

She followed him to the change rooms where he grabbed one of the brooms he kept in a locker. She _Accio_-ed one of the practice brooms inside and turned to pursue him out onto the pitch. She watched as he drew the top of his cloak tightly about his shoulders and mounted the broom, letting out a deep sigh as he lifted his face towards the crying sky, letting the misty rain spray on his face and the cool wind whip through his hair.

She mounted her own broom and waited for him to take flight. As soon as he did, she kicked off in silent pursuit. He climbed higher and higher into the sky, ascending into the dangerously dark and threatening clouds as though he could sense that he was being followed, being chased. He didn't know though. He was an astute man who was very aware of his surroundings. She knew this of him, which is what made her so good at what she did – she was a gifted stalker.

Too long had she been waiting in the shadows. She'd had enough. She had tried to capture his attention by berating him in the halls and hexing him whenever she saw him. These actions only earned her detentions – the kind that_ he_ did not serve, unfortunately. She was finally going to get his attention. She was going to make him fight back.

She kicked her heels and leaned forward so that her stomach and face were lying directly on top of the broom. She shot upward, climbing faster and faster, until she nimbly shot past him, crossing dangerously in front of him, just barely missing his face.

She quickly steered with the neck of the broom, forcing it to turn back around and head back towards him. She watched as he swayed slightly, regaining his balance and his composure. His eyes momentarily widened and grew wild but then narrowed into mercury slits. She smirked. This is what she wanted.

She rushed at him head on this time, playing chicken, daring him to dart out of the way. He quickly caught onto her plan and leaned forward, speeding towards her at break-neck speed. She laughed into the buzzing air, feeling the rain drench her skin all the way to the bone. She had lost her cloak in an effort to overtake him.

She gripped the neck of the broom tighter and pushed forward, harder and faster. She was not going to move, and he knew it. He did a quick barrel roll as they came to a collision, barely missing her as he rolled past, upside down, and then righted himself back up, quickly jerking the broom back in her direction, chasing after her as she began to soar upwards.

There were no words exchanged, no shouting – just the chase, the hunt.

She turned her head around to look back at him over her shoulder. She laughed at him, seeing the look of anger and determination in his eyes. Her laughter, her ridicule, only seemed to anger him more. He pressed forward, reaching out with his hand to close in on her ankle.

She knew that his broom was faster, and it was only a matter of time before he overtook her. She was only able to evade him thus far due to her skill coupled with the advantage of surprise. She had clearly shocked and unnerved him, but, as she suspected, he had quickly recovered and adapted. He was directly behind her now. She could hear him breathing loudly as he pressed on to reach her. That's when she decided to test fate and see how far she could test him _and_ herself.

She abruptly let go of the broom and felt him crash into her. It was more painful than she had expected. His head collided with her shoulder and knocked her forward, making her tumble off her broom. As she began to slip and slide off her broom, his arms shot out and snaked around her waist, desperately clinging onto her as they both rocketed back down towards the ground. His ankles were still wrapped around his broom, and she assumed that he was debating whether or not to drop her so that he could right himself and steady his mount.

After what seemed like an eternity, he made his decision and with a great heaving effort, he pulled her back up with him onto the broom, trying to balance her and himself. She gripped the neck of the broom and immediately began to pull upwards as they plummeted down towards the earth. She screamed in an almost amused sort of way as she continued to pull upward while he tumbled backwards and latched onto her waist again, holding on tightly. She finally evened out the broom as they hovered a mere two feet off the ground. She turned back and looked at him over her shoulder and grinned, letting out a relieved and giddy sigh.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed, smiling gleefully as she gracefully dismounted and walked off back towards the castle.

Draco jumped off his broom, his mouth ajar from the frightening audacity and lunacy that the little Weasley girl had just displayed. He threw his broom past her shoulder, and she turned around, a smile still plastered on her face.

"Are you bloody _mad_, Weasley?" he shouted, reaching her in several long strides.

He grabbed her by her arms and shook her. He wanted to wring the pretty, little redhead's neck.

"You could have killed the both of us, you stupid little Gryffindor!" he yelled, digging his well-manicured fingers into her wet flesh.

She smiled through the pain and smirked at him, relishing in the feeling of his touch, no matter how brutal or painful it was.

"We're alive," she answered simply and blandly, looking up into his steel-grey eyes that were narrowed on hers. He was finally paying attention to _her_.

"We're _alive_?" he repeated, indignant and flabbergasted. "That's all you have to say?"

He shook her some more, but she only giggled. Right now, she figured that he wished he had his wand on him, to hex some sense into her.

"I am going to—"

"Shut up, Malfoy," she growled lowly, interrupting him.

His right eyebrow shot up in incredulity, unable to comprehend the mentality of the Weasley girl. He made to open his mouth again to verbally eviscerate the cocky redhead when any chance of a rebuttal was throw irrevocably out the window.

She jumped forward, on her toes, and reached out with her arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him downwards with the weight of her arms on his shoulders. He felt her tiny rosebud mouth find his, and her tongue mischievously darted past his lips, invading his mouth with the sweet taste of cotton candy and strawberries.

She raked her small hands through his soft, silky hair, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning into her mouth and returning her kiss just as passionately and fervently. Unconsciously, he began to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her up as she, in turn, wrapped her legs around him. He crushed her slender form against his, pressing his hardness against the bottom of her arse.

She moaned back, pulling at his hair with one of her hands while the other stealthily moved downward towards his trousers. He felt the brush of her fingertips against the bulge in his pants, and it caused him to flinch. Was the Weasley girl trying to cop a feel?

The intimate touch rocketed him back to reality. He fully remembered who he was with and what he was doing – with a Weasley! He valiantly tore her off him and set her back down on the ground, shoving her back an arm's length away.

"Have you gone completely starkers, Weasley?" he cried, unconsciously licking at his lips, tasting her flavour.

She looked wild and ready to pounce on him again, so he brought his hand forward, pointing his finger at her in an admonishing fashion.

"No!" he began, pushing her back with one hand. He was scolding her like a petulant child.

Her eyes narrowed on him, and then she abruptly turned around, shrugging her shoulders, _seeming_ indifferent to the matter altogether. She stalked off back towards the castle again, and he watched her go.

Ginevra smiled to herself as she headed back inside. She licked at her lips, thinking about the kiss she had just stolen. Well, not completely stolen. He _had_ kissed her back, and that meant something. He, obviously, wasn't repulsed by her, but she still had a lot more work to do if she wanted _him_ to initiate anything with her. However, this was just the beginning. She had got his attention, and that was the most important part.

~*~

**To be continued …**

~*~

**Author's Notes**: To be continued, of course. As Ginny mentioned, this was only the beginning. Why is Ginny pursuing Draco? We still haven't found out about that yet or what made them truly begin their love affair. Also, what about future Draco and Ginny? What happened after the Hogwarts battle (or during for that matter)? Does Ginny leave Harry? What about Draco and Astoria? So many questions. So much more smut to come. (As this one wasn't that smutty).


	4. A Bubble Covered Malfoy

**Mine, Forever**

**A Bubble-Covered Malfoy**

He was a man of impeccable style, of expensive taste, who could only ever conduct himself with a measured and calculated grace. While he was not the most handsome man at school (damn that blasted Blaise Zabini), he was amongst the most desirable. Draco Malfoy had learned long ago that a bad boy _always _drew in the women; it was part of the territory.

His mannerism were almost cat-like, nimble and graceful. His walk was more of a saunter, a borderline swagger. He carried himself like a man who knew he was being stared at, being whispered about behind hands, and he was. Ever since the night he brought Death Eaters into the school and was accused of the indirect murder of Dumbledore, he never ceased to turn heads as he walked by.

Tonight was one of those nights where his presence had earned adulation and admiration amongst the Slytherin ranks. Pansy and Daphne were fawning over him as Vincent and Gregory scowled in the background, still angry at him for not fully letting them in on his plans the previous year. He figured it to be more of an envy issue – he being an honoured Death Eater and they not.

Draco was the only student at school who was officially part of Voldemort's ranks, the youngest Death Eater initiated. He knew he should be proud, but the honour and novelty wore off the moment he pointed a shaking wand at Dumbledore's chest. All he wanted now was solitude, to get away. He couldn't just blow people off though as he and his parents were still in danger. But he didn't want the fame any more. On some twisted and cruelly ironic level, he finally understood why Potter cowed from the limelight whenever he could. Inevitably, it wore you down.

Draco's black polished docs barely made a sound as they met with the cold marble floor. He walked down the familiar path, intent on escaping his destiny for just one night – a little time to himself to rest and relax and let his cares float away in an endless sea of bubbles.

Draco Malfoy's guilty pleasure was taking long, languid bubble baths.

He made his way to the Slytherin Prefect bathroom and soundlessly opened the door with his wand, stepping inside. Just as quietly, he locked the door behind him and set his wand down on the table.

As he began to slowly disrobe, shedding his expensive clothing, he thought back to the last few encounters he'd had with the Weasley girl. The most recent event had been the detention, before that, the game of chicken on brooms.

He neatly folded his shirt and trousers and set them on the table and picked up his wand as he walked over to the large porcelain tub. He tapped the ornate faucet and watched as hot water and foamy bubbles began to fill the large basin.

Fully naked, he stepped inside, hissing at his bare skin made contact with the searing heat. Slowly, he lowered his slender yet toned body into the tub and sat down with a sigh of relief, leaning back as he rested his head on the ledge of the tub. He closed his eyes and began to drift off into sleep.

"A bubble-covered Malfoy," a soft voice said out of nowhere, causing his head to snap to attention. "How cute."

"Who's there?" Draco cried, sitting up, reaching for his wand.

It wasn't there.

"I think you're looking for this," the voice replied and suddenly a body materialised to accompany it.

It was Ginevra Weasley, and she was holding his wand.

"How did you get in here?" Draco managed to croak out, deathly afraid of what the little redhead was going to do to him whilst he was unarmed and naked in the tub.

"Disillusionment Charm," she replied simply, shrugging her shoulders as she began to fidget with her robes.

Draco raised an eyebrow. That was a rather advanced charm. He had no idea that the Girl Weasel could perform such powerful magic. He also had no clue how she managed to find him here let alone discover her way into the secret location of the Slytherin dormitories.

"I followed you down the Entrance Hall while you took the door on the left," she explained, as if reading his mind. "For all your cunning and craft, you Slytherins don't really tend to pay attention to each other, which makes it fairly easy for a Gryffindor to sneak down here in borrowed robes." She smirked.

Draco furrowed his brow and examined her attire more closely. She was wearing Slytherin robes. How did she get a hold of them?

"You'd be surprised at what people leave in their Quidditch lockers," she said as she rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip while the other held the front of her stolen robes. "You all can afford to have several pairs, so who will notice one missing?"

He stared through her, wondering if she was performing some sort of Legilimency on him. She could easily cast a Disillusionment Charm and sneak into the Slytherin dormitories (and Prefect bathroom) undetected, so who knew what else the little red-haired witch could do.

"Oh, c'mon, Malfoy. Don't act so startled and confused. It doesn't take a master of Legilimency to read your thoughts." She grinned and walked towards him, bringing out her wand.

He shrank back.

"Now, Weasley," he began, trying to figure out exactly how to explain to this nutter standing before him that her attacking him in a Death-Eater-run school wasn't exactly a brilliant idea.

Before he could formulate the words, the Weasley girl did something that made any coherent speech die on his lips and all cognitive thought depart his mind entirely – the girl got naked!

He watched in horror, but mostly amazement, as the petite Gryffindor let her robes fall to the floor, revealing her nude, pale, and smooth-looking body. While he had never paid mind to the girl clothed, finding her style to resemble that of a biddy old grandmother, naked, she was rather … captivating. But then, he was a seventeen-year-old boy – a naked girl was a naked girl.

She wasn't remotely shy or embarrassed. And why should she be? Draco noted, with a wide open and hanging mouth, that the Weasley girl was rather nubile, the perfect female form in both colour and size. Her breasts were immaculate, perky and round, just barely a handful, accented with tiny pink nubs that begged to be teased. Her skin was pale, smooth, and flawless, from the flat yet fullness of her stomach to the healthy curve of her hips that swelled to her perfectly round bottom that met with slender yet toned thighs, reaching down to her perfectly sculpted calves and small pointed toes.

Before Draco's eyes could roam back up to the apex of her thighs once more, the redhead nimbly stepped into the tub and sat across from him. She held both wands in her right hand on top of the tub as she leaned back and rested her elbows on the edge, staring him down as her pale breasts buoyed to the top of the water, partially hidden by the bubbles.

Draco stared back at her, swallowing hard and frequently. His throat had suddenly gone dry.

"How did you know that I'd be in here?" he finally asked after several unsuccessful attempts at lubricating his throat with saliva.

She snorted rather unattractively and tapped the wands on the rim of the porcelain tub. "I think it's rather obvious, Malfoy," she responded haughtily and arrogantly, two expressions that would otherwise appear foreign on her innocent-looking face.

Yes, he knew how. She had stalked him. She had been stalking him since the beginning of the term. He knew the how but not the why.

"Well then, Weasley. Why don't you explain to me_ why_ you are following me all over the place," he demanded, finally gaining his courage back.

"Another obvious answer," she retorted, turning her nose up at him

"..."

"You seriously don't know?" she asked after his stony silence, her eyes twinkling with merriment and delight.

She suddenly sprang forward and swam towards him. He braced himself and leaned back against the tub. Her hands met his thighs, and she hoisted herself up onto his lap and began to slide up his chest, rubbing her somehow hard nipples against his skin. He let out a soft moan and rolled his eyes up into his head.

Damnable witch.

His eyes shot open when he felt her leg in between his and saw her leaning over the tub, reaching down for something on the floor, searching her robes' pockets. Her firm, round arse was rubbing against his stomach, and he, inadvertently, reached out and put a flat palm on her cheek. This was his moment, he thought, where he could over-power her and take his wand back. Instead, his mind (or rather his body) decided that rubbing her bottom would be a better use of his time.

She finally sat back, straddling his lap once more, grinning as she shoved a small green leafy substance into her mouth and began to chew slowly. While he missed rubbing her arse, he enjoyed it just as much, if not more, with it settled on his lap.

"We're going to play a trust game," she said, momentarily shaking him from his naughty thoughts as she reached behind his head and placed both wands on the counter adjacent to the tub.

"What makes you think tha―"

She cut him off with a finger to his lips, and he furrowed his brow as he watched something bizarre begin to transform on her person. It looked as though invisible cuts, or slits, were forming on her neck. They looked like gills.

Draco managed to fix his brow even lower as several thoughts ran through his head.

_She must have taken gillyweed_, he thought to himself and frowned. _Now why would she want to do that_―

Draco's eyes opened wide as the freckled, red-haired vixen winked at him and then dove down into the water. He felt her fingers grip his inner thighs, and his hands, instinctively, went to her head, grasping it tightly.

He felt her lips on the head of tumescent member, and he wriggled about in the bubbles, groaning out loud. Her tongue, somehow cold, swirled around the rim as her lips slowly slid down the shaft, her tongue deftly following suit.

He somehow managed to tangle his fingers into her soft hair, unconsciously pushing her head down. She complied, and he could almost feel her smiling as she plunged his length fully down her throat, swallowing hard as his head hit the soft yet unyielding barrier.

"Fucking hell!" he gasped, sitting up and then throwing himself back.

This girl was killing him. She had just began to touch him, and he felt as though he was going to explode at any moment. He knew that as the seconds ticked by, she wasn't going to make it any easier on him.

Slowly, she began to bob her head up and down on, and his moans began to sound like desperate pleas. She kept at it, relentlessly, and after five minutes of this exquisite torture, he began to squirm.

"Weasley!" he shouted, thrashing around in the water, throwing bubbles up in the air that landed on his head.

He was trying desperately to contain himself, but the little Gryffindor was going at him like a hungry and insatiable animal. She knew all the right buttons to press. If she didn't stop soon, she was going to get a mouthful.

"Weasley," he begged now, hating the sound of his voice.

This was wrong. She was a Weasley and a Gryffindor – a blood traitor! It was wrong, but it felt so … right.

"Ung!" he cried as he gripped the back of her head and began to spasm, shooting his hot load deep down her throat, trembling slightly at each burst.

Each squirt eased him further and further into his release, melting his cares away like warm chocolate. He sank back into the tub and let out a long, satisfied sigh as his head lulled back, unaware that he had tensed up to the point where he was almost standing.

The Weasley girl shot up out of the water, throwing her long wet hair back with a laugh, spraying water and bubbles all over the floor. She straddled Draco's lap once more, and he hadn't the strength or the will to resist her as she pressed her soft, wet lips against his.

Something inside him stirred, and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her back and head while he took her mouth with his, darting his tongue past her lips, tasting himself inside her mouth.

She met his kiss gently and wrapped her arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth as his lips assaulted hers. After a moment, with deliberate movements, she lessened the intensity of the kiss and moved away. Almost abruptly, she stood up and stepped out of the tub, picking her robes up off the floor.

Draco sank back in the tub and leaned his head back. His eyes were still closed as the ghost of a smile played on his lips. The Weasley girl, more nutters than Loony Lovegood, had sneaked into the Slytherin Prefect bathroom, serviced him, and was now leaving without question. If she wasn't a Gryffindor and a Weasley, she would have made for a perfect girlfriend.

"Leaving so soon, pet?" he asked lazily, stilling grinning as he turned his head to watch her go.

She was wringing water out her hair onto the floor and had borrowed one of his towels to dry herself off. After a casual pat down, she threw on her robes and drew them tightly around herself and grinned back at him rather coyly.

"That's the plan," she replied calmly, bringing up the hood to her borrowed robes as she turned to the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked with a wolfish grin as he reached behind his head to grab the wands.

They weren't there.

He sat up and turned around, searching for his wand, and then snapped his head back to look up at her.

"No, I have everything I need," she answered with a wry grin and dug her hands into her pockets to pull out two wands. "If you want yours back, you know where to find me."

And with that, Ginevra Weasley left a rather confused and physically drained Draco Malfoy to sit in a sea of bubbles, hopelessly trying to figure out what to do next.

~*~

**To be continued … **

~*~

**Author notes**: This bath scene is dedicated to **Manu **(choravenclaw), who really wanted to see a naked Draco taking a bubble bath. ^_^ Remember that I am no Mistress of Smut, just the Queen of Tease. ^_~

What comes next? We discover why Ginny is stalking Draco. After that chapter comes the Shave Scene. ^_^


End file.
